


You've got my love

by nofeartina



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Even's hands, Fluff and Smut, Handporn, M/M, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nofeartina/pseuds/nofeartina
Summary: Isak can feel himself heat up a bit, just from watching Even’s fingers play on his lips. From seeing that gorgeous hand on display like that.God. Even’s hands.(birthday fic for Minilocisland)





	You've got my love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinilocIsland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/gifts).



> Today is the lovely Minilocisland's birthday and she deserves the world, but since I can't give her that I wrote her this fic instead. :)
> 
> [LoveThem2121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveThem2121) ([mu-zi-light](http://mu-zi-light.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) created this lovely banner to go with the fic for the special occasion, because she wanted to do something for Minilocisland's birthday too. :)
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY from the both of us!!!! We hope you have a really good one, babe. <3 
> 
> Champagneleftie betaed this and made it readable (as usual). And without further ado, I hope you (all) enjoy. :)

[](https://ibb.co/iTwScp)

 

Isak should be studying.

He has 14 more pages to read before his biology lesson tomorrow. Almost an entire chapter. But he’s read the same paragraph over and over about 11 times and he’s not getting any closer to remembering it.

He’s distracted.

His eyes are constantly straying from the book to Even, who’s just sitting there on their bed, drawing, lost in his own world, foot bobbing along to the rhythm of whatever he’s listening to in his earbuds. With Even focused elsewhere Isak can indulge, can look as much as he likes without Even noticing.

But Isak shouldn’t be indulging. He has so much work to do.

So he focuses on the page again, clears his throat to restart his brain and reads the first sentence of that paragraph all over again.

He’s barely made it through half the sentence before his eyes catch on a movement.

He watches, enraptured, how Even lifts a hand to his mouth, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, how his thumb catches on his lip, pulls at it a little bit in a move he doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing.

That movement.

Just a bit of teeth, just a bit of promise of what those lips can do. What that mouth can do.

Jesus.

Isak swallows hard. Clears his throat all over again even though he knows it’s going to be impossible to go back to reading now.

Even taps two fingers against his lower lip. He’s still lost in concentration, clearly stuck or trying to work something out. But watching those long, beautiful fingers so close to Even’s lips...

Isak can’t breathe.

He squirms in his seat. Remembers all too well how those exact two fingers fit inside of him only an hour ago. He wonders if Even still smells him on them.

If he angles his hips just so, he can feel how his rim is still tingly, how he’s still a little bit wet even though he cleaned himself up. He loves it, loves the way he can still feel Even on him, in him, even though some time has passed.

But it’s not helping his concentration one bit. Especially since his dick is starting to catch on.

He squirms in his seat one more time, but this time it’s to alleviate the pressure in his pants. Zippers really weren’t designed for this.

Isak can feel himself heat up a bit, just from watching Even’s fingers play on his lips. From seeing that gorgeous hand on display like that.

God. Even’s hands.

Sometimes Isak looks at them and wishes he was some kind of poet, or at least better with words. Because they’re _perfect_. Big and strong, long fingers, neatly trimmed fingernails. They’re just the right length, just the right size for Isak.

“Am I disturbing you?” Even asks, voice full of mirth, and with the way Isak has been consumed by his thoughts of Even’s hands trying to respond feels like surfacing from water.

“Huh?” Isak answers intelligently, almost ready to shake his head to get out of this stupor, to wake himself up.

Even’s looking at him with his eyebrows raised, a happy smile playing on his lips, stretching his mouth further and further the longer it takes Isak to answer.

“You were far away, baby,” Even says and finally pulls his fingers away from his mouth.

But that doesn’t really mean that Isak stops staring. Or that his dick pays any less attention.

It’s almost impossible for Isak to tear his eyes away from that mouth.

And then Even licks his lips, his tongue playfully lingering on his bottom lip. Like he knows. Like he’s teasing Isak.

“Wha--” Isak starts, but stops, breath hitching, dick jumping in his pants when Even starts biting at it instead. Showing teeth, making his lip red and puffy and even though he hasn’t let go of it yet, Isak can already picture it. Knows exactly how it’s going to look when he’s done. Remembers vividly how those teeth feel against his skin. How those lips feel against his.

It’s enough to make him slack-mouthed and a bit out of breath.

“Isak,” Even says, and the way his voice shakes a bit at the end is enough to tell Isak that he’s getting affected too.

That coupled with the fire starting to show in his eyes, makes Isak’s dick jump all over again. He’s already so hard, almost at the point of leaking, and they haven’t even done anything yet.

And to hell with that chapter, there’s no way Isak could concentrate now, no way he’d be able to finish when Even starts unfolding his legs, spreads them wide when he puts his feet to the floor, and he’s such a sight like this.

Too tempting to stay away from, so Isak stops trying.

He gets up from the chair, walks the few steps over to Even eagerly and then just climbs into his lap. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t hesitate, just puts his lips to Even’s and kisses him.

He makes it dirty from the start, pushes his tongue into Even’s mouth, swallows up the surprised, happy sounds that spill from Even.

Isak grinds against Even and shivers from the zing of arousal that runs down his spine at how Even’s already half hard against him.

Even pulls back, just a tad, just enough that he can start to talk, and Isak uses the chance to start kissing down Even’s throat.

“If I knew biology was such a turn on for you, I would--” Even starts, but Isak stops him by kissing the last words of that sentence out of his mouth. He knew that Even was going to do that, he always does, but Isak’s not in the mood for cute banter right now. He just wants Even to focus on his dick for a bit.

Maybe show Isak what he can do with those hands.

So he grinds down again, a slow, dirty one, rubbing the length of his dick against Even in a roll of his hips that he knows will get Even going.

And it does. It’s easy to feel him harden against him, easy to feel how those big hands tighten against his sides, and he almost can’t contain his smugness when they slide down to his ass and squeeze it.

“Wow, you’re really--” Even tries to say, but Isak smothers it again, still not really in the mood for talking.

“If the next sentence out of your mouth doesn’t contain something about how much you want my dick, then I’m going to have to silence you with it,” Isak warns against Even’s lips, but it’s playful. An empty threat. Except that those words seem to make Even flush, adds to the color in his cheeks and makes him exhale roughly against Isak’s lips.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Isak pulls back a bit further to be able to see what Even’s face is doing, and he can’t help but smirk when he sees his wide eyes and slack mouth. This is a revelation that Isak has to store for another time, he just doesn’t have the patience to do anything about that right now.

And this time it’s Even who closes the distance between them, who pushes his tongue into Isak’s mouth, and he uses his grip on Isak’s ass to push him down, to hold him in place while he rolls his hips up and Isak can hardly breathe from how good that feels.

He lets go of Even, pulls back to fumble with the button of his jeans, to get it open. He has to relieve the pressure on his dick, he needs to get some kind of friction on it or he might _die_.

As soon as he pops it, he pulls down the zipper and then he starts in on Even’s.

Even gives Isak room to work the button and zipper, and as soon as they’re open he rolls them over until Isak is on his back, and then Even pulls at his jeans, efficiently, fingers bent around both jeans and briefs. While Even struggles with Isak’s tight jeans, Isak lifts from the bed to pull off his t-shirt, and as soon as Even has taken care of Isak’s socks he’s naked.

Instead of pulling back so he can get naked too, Even surprises Isak by lying down on top of him, pushing Isak’s legs aside to make room for himself there.

Isak eagerly spreads his legs for Even, loves the weight of him on top of him.

It’s a strange feeling, to be so naked when Even isn’t. Even’s open zipper hurts a bit against the skin of his hip, but the feel of the soft cloth of Even’s briefs more than makes up for it. Even’s so hard, that bulge pressed against his own hard dick is enough to drive Isak mad with want.

Even is back to kissing him, his tongue twirling in a way that makes Isak melt into the mattress, that makes him hitch his knees up in the hope that it will make Even move faster.

It doesn’t.

He just keeps rolling his hips against Isak’s, grinding slowly and leisurely against him as he sets Isak on fire with his mouth.

Isak makes a strangled sound, fists his hands in Even’s shirt, doesn’t know if he’s pulling him closer or pushing him away. Everything is so much, and he feels like he’s been on the verge of losing it for so long that Even’s slow pace is making him lose his mind.

Although he really loves when Even takes the time to take him apart.

He whines, a pitiful sound from somewhere high in his throat, when Even pulls back.

“You want my mouth?” he asks in a low rough voice that shoots straight to Isak’s dick and makes him clench his eyes shut.

Even has stopped moving, like he seriously expects an answer to that question, but Isak can’t think or breathe, and he doesn’t know how Even can expect him to answer when he’s like this.

“Or you want my fingers?” Even continues, the tips of two of his fingers gently pushing against Isak’s lips.

Isak opens his eyes at the same time as he opens his mouth.

And that’s apparently all the answer Even needs because he lights up in a devious smile and pushes two fingers inside Isak’s mouth.

Isak closes his lips around them immediately, sucks them into his mouth and moans around them. Loves how they feel against his tongue, how Even’s knuckles scrape against his teeth. Loves how Even’s eyes go half-lidded as he watches Isak do dirty, dirty things to them.

Things he hopes makes Even think about what his mouth can do to him in other places.

“Fuck,” Even mutters and leans in, pushes his tongue inside Isak’s mouth next to his fingers, and it’s so filthy and wet that Isak’s toes curl, and the sound that escapes him is pulled from deep inside of him.

Resonates through his entire body.

Without warning Even pulls his fingers out of Isak’s mouth, keeps kissing Isak while he leans to the side and just when Isak’s about to complain about Even pulling back like that again, he feels it. Feels Even’s hand crawl along his hip, along his thigh, searching.

Isak instinctively spreads the leg that Even’s not lying on, tilts his hips and makes it easier for Even to find what he’s looking for.

His dick twitches when Even’s fingers slide down his perineum, down his crack, getting closer and closer to the place where Isak wants him the most.

They both sigh when Even’s fingers finally brush over Isak’s rim and Even starts rubbing it immediately.

Isak fights to keep his eyes open, wants to see the way Even is looking at him, how his eyes flit over his face, taking in every centimeter of him.

Isak can’t imagine he looks good like this, sweaty and flushing and jittery. He feels like a mess already, but it’s obvious that Even likes what he sees.

“You’re still wet,” Even whispers against his lips, just as he starts to breach Isak, starts pushing his fingers inside him and Isak just opens for him.

There’s no resistance, no fight, Even just slides in to the first knuckle and Isak can’t keep his eyes open anymore. Throws his head back against the duvet, mouth open and eyes clenched so tight he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to open them again.

Even feels so good inside of him, those long, wiry fingers, perfect, perfect in the way they slide right in, knuckles catching on his rim, big and all-encompassing. Leaving room for nothing else inside Isak.

There’s only this, only the feeling of Even’s fingers, stretching him, filling him.

“Isak,” Even moans, voice full of reverence and then he pushes them all the way inside.

It’s a long, easy slide, flawless in the way Even doesn’t hesitate. He pushes them as far inside Isak as they can go, fingers scraping against Isak’s perineum, bumping into his balls and it feels like so much more.

Isak gasps, tries to fit his mouth and tongue around the words _more, harder, faster_ , but there are no sounds in him except the pleased, wet moans escaping him.  

Even’s mouth finds the exposed skin of his throat, rains kisses up and down the warm skin there, a lick along his adam’s apple that makes him swallow and Even’s tongue lose its vantage point.

Isak’s dick pulses with need, long viscous strings of precum linking his stomach to his dick and it takes everything in him not to wrap his hand around it.

He unclenches a hand from Even’s t-shirt and without thinking about it it finds its way to his hair. He pulls at it, tries to find something else to focus on than this constant, overwhelming pleasure that Even’s providing him with.

He’s everywhere, fills every sense of him, surrounds him with his scent, his touch, and his sounds.

But it’s not enough, it’s never enough. Isak will never get enough of this, of him.

Even moves his hand faster, responds to Isak’s silent requests perfectly, long, slender fingers moving expertly inside Isak, making the hair on his body rise and goosebumps break out all over.

And then Even finds his prostate, deliberately rubs the soft pad of his finger over it, starts to circle it with both fingers.

Isak’s shaking in no time, hand pulling on his hair so hard that he’s afraid he might pull some out, but he’s powerless to stop it.

There’s so much sensation, so much need, those fingers rubbing mercilessly against him over and over again, making his entire body throb with pleasure.

The low hum of desperation reaches a new crescendo, constantly fed by the sensation of Even’s fingers inside of him.

And then Even rises up on his knees, leans back far enough that he can watch his fingers disappear inside of Isak and he makes this sound in his throat that shoots straight to Isak’s dick and makes it pulse and push out even more precum.

Even puts his hand on Isak’s leg, bending it towards his chest, making it easier for him to reach and to see.

“Isak...” he moans, and it’s enough to make Isak open his eyes, just in time to see Even lick his lips. He’s flushed as well, hair starting to fall down into his face, hiding his eyes a bit, but there’s no doubt that he’s just as affected by this as Isak is.

Isak lifts his head, looks down his body to see Even’s palm move between his legs, and he wishes he could see it all, wishes he could watch those long, limber fingers working inside him, watch his rim stretch around them.   

“You look perfect like this,” Even says, and Isak’s eyes flit from Even’s hand to his face. He watches as Even’s eyes slide down the length of his body, from his chin to where Even’s hand is working him.

It always gets to him, the way Even looks at him. The way he sees him. Even definitely sees something in him that Isak doesn’t recognize, not quite, but he’s done arguing with him.

He loves the way Even watches him. Like Isak is the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. The most beautiful thing in the world.

It’s almost enough to make Isak believe it too.

Isak licks his lips, bites at his bottom lip, tongue working in his mouth. He wishes he could suck Even off, desperately needs to feel the weight of that beautiful dick on his tongue, against the roof of his mouth.

He closes his eyes at the thought, a whine escaping from somewhere deep inside of him and when he opens them again it’s to find Even looking at him with dark, hooded eyes.

The hand not setting off small explosions inside Isak slowly leaves his leg, and Isak takes over instead, puts his own hand around his thigh to keep it where it is. To make sure he’s as open as he can be for Even. And then Even’s hand slides up, lingers briefly at Isak’s nipple, slides up to his throat, where it pauses again, and it’s so big there, feels huge the way it wraps around his throat like it was made for it. There’s a promise of something there, the way he pauses, the way his fingers twitch, but it’s something they’ve never talked about so when Isak swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing against the meat of Even’s palm that’s just tight enough to make his throat itch, Even moves on. Up, up, until his fingers find Isak’s lips again.

Isak opens for him eagerly, he might have wished for Even’s dick, but this is almost even better. He welcomes Even’s fingers into his mouth, fits his tongue around them, pushes them against the roof of his mouth and sucks. His cheeks hollow and he knows he makes quite the picture like this, knows that Even loves watching his mouth stuffed full of him.

He moans at the taste of salt and sweat, graphite from the pencil he was using earlier. It’s so Even that Isak can’t help the way his mouth floods with spit.

“Shit,” Even moans, shuffles his knees on the bed and Isak watches him intently as his eyes flit between both of his hands.

Like he can’t decide what he wants to watch the most.

Isak lets go of his leg, grabs Even’s wrist, and slowly pulls his fingers out of his mouth, doesn’t hold back so that Even can hear every wet and sloppy sound that elicits, and when only the pads of his fingers are left, he opens his mouth and runs his tongue over them, making sure that Even can see everything he’s doing.

Makes a show of it.

He turns Even’s hand over, runs his tongue down the length of those long, long fingers until he reaches the back of his hand, where he finds the big vein that starts at the knuckle of Even’s forefinger. He follows the length of it, stops to suck at the place where two veins meet, and continues licking up his wrist. He turns the hand over again to suck at the thin, pale, sensitive skin there.

Even’s fingers twitch inside of him, and Isak makes sure he keeps his eyes on him, makes sure that Even sees everything he’s doing.

Even’s breath hitches and he speeds up the movements of his fingers inside of Isak, working him so good that Isak can barely concentrate on sucking anymore.

Even suddenly removes his hand from Isak’s fingers, Isak’s lips making a loud smack as he does, and he wraps it around Isak’s leaking dick instead, the remaining spit on his fingers adding to the easy slide provided from all that precum dripping from Isak.

Isak moans. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore, just lies back and lets Even take control of his pleasure, lets him work him so good inside and outside that his toes curl and he loses the breath in his lungs and he’s so, so close.

Even speeds up, his hand flying over the length of Isak’s dick, creating the most perfect friction in a wonderful counterpoint to the rubbing he’s doing inside of Isak.

Isak feels liquid, so much heat inside of him, lava running through his veins, every nerve in his body set on fire.

His hand lands in his hair again, fists a good handful and holds on for the ride, and the rush of blood in his ears is so loud that he can’t even hear the sounds he’s making.

And then he tips over.

It’s a slow explosion, starts in his prostate, connects lazily with his balls, continues to his dick until it feels like he’s erupting from all the heat, from all the pleasure. The orgasm is pulled from him, pulled from somewhere deep inside of him, and he shoots and shoots, paints his chest and stomach and Even’s hand in white and it’s never-ending, every pulse adding on top of the next like a peak that’s impossible to reach.  

Until he does.

Until he’s on the other side of it, until his balls are almost hurting with how much cum he’s released and when Even’s hand slides over his dick one last time it’s almost enough to make Isak shout out in sensitivity.

He’s shaking, panting, sweating, his legs flopping to the bed listlessly and he almost feels out of control from the euphoria, from how limp he feels. The orgasm has sucked every ounce of strength out of his body and left him a heaving mess on the bed.

He hears the ruffle of clothes and he just manages to open his eyes to see Even pull down his briefs under his dick and balls, to see him use the hand covered in Isak’s cum to start stroking himself.

His fingers are still inside of Isak although they’re not moving anymore, and Isak watches as Even’s eyes flit, fascinated, between the fingers in Isak’s ass and the mess he’s made of himself. Of his rapidly deflating dick, lying on his stomach in a pool of drying cum.

It doesn’t take much. Isak has barely started to catch his breath before Even leans in and starts shooting over him, adding to the mess on his stomach and dick, drenching him in his cum. He rubs the last few globs over Isak’s soft balls and then he collapses on top of him.

Isak _umphs_ but wraps his tired arms around Even, welcomes his weight. Even’s breathing is loud in his ear and he’s heavy like this. Isak turns his head, runs his nose along Even’s wet temple before he points his lips for a kiss.

He settles there, lets them both find their breaths again, melting together except for the clothes that Even still has on.

That realization makes Isak smile, he can’t help it. And Even must feel it against his skin, because he makes a sound that roughly translates to a “what”, which makes Isak huff amusedly.

“You’ve ruined your clothes. No way that’s going on the chair now,” he says.

And Even whines and Isak knows that he’s pouting even though he can’t see him.

“Goddammit.”

It makes Isak tighten his arms around Even, makes him laugh in glee, probably helped by the endorphins still running through his veins.

It’s a source of constant debate between them. Even hates doing the laundry, would rather put his clothes on the chair one more time than having to admit that they need to do it. Sometimes it’s something they argue about, and sometimes it’s like this.

Something they can tease each other about.

“Can’t I do something to convince you to do it?” Even asks as he lifts his head and gives Isak that look. The one that makes Isak go weak in the knees and makes him _want_ to do these things for Even.   

“Maybe,” Isak says, trying to pretend he’s not a complete push-over for Even.

“Apparently all I have to do is sit on the bed and draw. I’m really good at doing that,” Even teases, leans in and kisses the indignant sputter off Isak’s face, kisses him until he’s soft again.

Isak almost feels like he’s melting into the bed when Even pulls back, and he licks his lips before he whispers, “You are.”

And of all the things Isak loves most about Even, the smile that breaks out all over his face at those words, the one that makes his eyes disappear and his teeth show, that’s his favorite.

It makes him forget about the laundry all over again and makes him light up in an answering smile himself.

Who cares about laundry when he has this.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Of course, this is about Even's hand because how could it not be, babe? ;) I hope this is what you wanted when you shouted at me about them. xD
> 
> Kudos and comments make me a real happy camper, so please don't hesitate to leave one (or both) if you enjoyed this. 
> 
> I'm [nofeartina](https://nofeartina.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come play! :)


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